The Chicken-Witch of the Grove. {excerpt}
She left the warmth of her farmhouse bed, called into the night by the silvery beams of that milk-white sliver in the sky, passing by her chicken coops.
Browsing Tag:
Danielle Dulsky
She Speaks the Language of the Crows, That Woman: Syrupy Medicine for the Autumn-Hungry Heart.
She speaks the language of the crows, that woman. If you're near her while she sleeps, you'll hear whispers of that ancient avian tongue...
Joy Magick and Heathen Delights: The Wilds of the Summer Hags.
Help me move this last stone into place, and let's lie quiet on the mossy earth, silent enough to hear those hags moon-croon us lullabies of magick.
To Woo a Witch: Five Questions for the Tempted and Love-Struck.
Can you be truly be trusted not just with her light-of-day beauty but with the fearsome and fearful hunted Witch side-eyeing you from her raw heart-center?
11 Resolutions for an 11 Year: Heathen Vows for the 2018 Portal.
I am resolving to get back to basics, swimming long and hard into the deep end of the Heathen ways where I once found such solace.
The Three Rs of the 13th Moon: Witching Void Rx for the Primal Feminine.
For now, we are full of faith in the fertile dark, and we are fed to the brim with all the Primal Feminine food we need to carry us through these longest nights.
These Are the Blades We Were Born With: From One Death Priestess to Another.
The Death Priestesses are the chosen ones who swim in this chaotic soup of righteous rage and power-hunger willingly, who do not fear the breakdown, the loss, and the dark void of absolute nothingness as others do.
My Horns Are Showing: The Timely Ache of the Blood Moon Witch.
You’re here now, and that’s all that matters. Put on the bone-and-antler crown I made for you, and I’ll grow my horns long to match yours.
When I Was Good: A Death Ritual for the Sweet-Blooded Witch.
When I was good, I was a sensitive and sweet-blooded Witch indeed. My ethics were impeccable, and my magick was so diamond white it could blind an angel.
This Is How We Rise: The Antidote to the Over-Bleached Wild.
Their eyes will get wild, and their hair will come undone. They’ll lift their chins and dig their manicured nails into their palms.